Dishonor
by governmentcontractor
Summary: This idea came to me while contemplating Arwen and Aragorn's relationship, and what else may have happened between men and elves in ME.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Characters and locations are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not own Mirkwood, Thranduil, Legolas, Gimli, or elves in general. I'm just playing in the sandbox, and I'll put everything back when I'm through.  
  
Title: Dishonor  
  
Dengar ducked a tree branch as his horse sped through the forest. Anxiously, he glanced behind him, searching for pursuers. Tightening his grip on the sword he carried, the young man urged his horse to a greater pace.  
  
Suddenly, the trees dropped away and he was in a small clearing. Ahead, smoke poured from several buildings. Dengar pulled back on the reigns sharply. His horse danced with fear from the smell of the flames, but Dengar didn't notice. His eyes were filled with the sight of destruction.  
  
"Dengar!"  
  
He turned toward the shout. At the edge of the trees was another rider. His pointed ears indicated his race.  
  
"This way," the elf shouted, motioning to the trees behind him with a long bow.  
  
Dengar put heels to his mount and followed the elf into the trees. Pulling alongside, he had time to shout only a single query.  
  
"The king?"  
  
The elf shook his head, sadness in his bright eyes.  
  
"It is over," thought Dengar, captain of the guard to King Andonlil.  
  
It was truly over. The Eastern realm of the elves was destroyed. They had fought bravely to preserve their home, but the orcs and the cursed Uruk-Hai had overrun them. After Sauron's defeat, these creatures had turned their sights east, and this small kingdom was lost.  
  
Dengar shook his head, trying to remove these thoughts. He must continue on; it was his duty. He was captain of the guard, and his king was dying. He looked up at the entrance to the cave where the king lay.  
  
Walking into the opening, Dengar felt his heart squeeze. To see his lord in such surroundings; to see the one he had sworn an oath to laying on the floor of this cave nearly sent him mad. Dengar knelt quickly beside the fallen elf, and gently lifted a pale hand.  
  
"Dengar," the king whispered, his voice almost nonexistent.  
  
"I am here, my Lord," Dengar responded quietly.  
  
"My daughter," Andonlil asked, his eyes opening in the dark cave and peering about.  
  
"Here, father," came the calm voice, as the princess stepped near. She, too, kneeled by the king and took his other hand.  
  
Dengar looked across Andonlil at the princess. Aeariel's eyes were unreadable in the dim light, but the captain could see that she had not escaped the battle unscathed. A dark bruise marred her pale cheek, and blood darkened the sleeves of her tunic.  
  
"Aeariel, you must take our people and flee," Andonlil said quietly.  
  
"Flee," Dengar exclaimed, turning his shocked eyes to the king.  
  
"Yes, father," the princess responded.  
  
"Take them," Andonlil began. A fit of coughing stopped him. Aeariel took the time to gesture Dengar to silence. "Take them to the west. Go to Mirkwood, my daughter. There you may find a measure of safety."  
  
"I will do what you wish," Aeariel responded firmly. "I will protect our people."  
  
The king nodded, and in relief closed his eyes. His breathing slowed and faltered.  
  
The king was no more.  
  
Dengar stood outside the cave. Around him activity continued as the injured were bandaged and placed on horses. Weapons were checked, and fresh arrows were distributed to those who would use them. The princess was walking towards him with three well-armed guards. She was gesturing urgently as she spoke.  
  
"We take only what we can carry. No treasures of any kind," Aeariel said, meeting the eyes of each warrior to be certain her message was clear. "We must travel swiftly."  
  
"Travel where," Dengar questioned as the group reached his position before the cave.  
  
The princess turned to him in surprise. Her jaw tightened and a frown appeared between her arched brows.  
  
"To Mirkwood, as my father commanded," Aeariel responded, her voice tight with emotion.  
  
"My Lady, there is no reason for us to abandon our realm," Dengar began, stepping nearer the princess. He had known her for years - nearly his whole life. He had been a great friend to the princes, her older brothers, and felt their sister was almost his own relation. "We merely need to regroup and consider a strategy."  
  
Dengar looked at the others for support, but the princess interrupted.  
  
"A strategy," Aeariel repeated. "Tell me, Captain of the King's Guard, what strategy do you have in mind to recapture our burned out village when we are outnumbered nearly one hundred to one."  
  
Dengar flinched from Aeariel's query. Other elves had approached and listened anxiously to the discussion.  
  
"We cannot just leave," Dengar appealed.  
  
"It is madness to do anything else," the princess replied forcefully. When she saw that Dengar was going to continue to argue, Aeariel raised her voice in a final statement on the matter. "My father is dead! I am your ruler now. I have decreed that we will seek aid from the elves of Mirkwood." In a softer voice she continued. "If you do not wish to accompany us, Captain Dengar, you are free to choose your own path. There are cities of men in the south where you would be welcome. I do not hold you to the vows you made my father."  
  
Dengar shook his head in denial of the idea of leaving the elves.  
  
"The people of the eastern realm have been my people since the age of eight years. I cannot imagine another life."  
  
Aeariel nodded her understanding. Dengar had been found some twenty years ago wandering in the woods. His family had been murdered by orcs, and the elves had taken him in. Her own father had raised Dengar. He could not abandon them now. 


	2. In Mirkwood

Yay! I've been reviewed. Pernauriel: Thank you for your comments. Yes, I'm going to continue.  
  
~  
  
Of course, there were orcs near Mirkwood as well. The remaining elves of the eastern realm had battled their way clear to a road to the west. Their numbers had dwindled. Now they were nearly in sight of their goal, and once again they were running from the enemy.  
  
Aeariel shouted orders from horseback, and tirelessly fired arrows at the pursuing orcs. It seemed that screams and the smell of blood were all around her.  
  
She was thrown backward as something struck her right shoulder. The princess barely kept her seat upon the horse, and turned amazed eyes to see the arrow protruding. Cries went up around her from her guard. Aeariel turned her horse, and urged her mount to all speed. If she could only reach Mirkwood, they would have reinforcements.  
  
But they were closer to help than the princess assumed. In an unusual move the orcs stopped and retreated away from the increasingly shadowed forest. On the right side of the road Aeariel saw a flash of pale hair, and a drawn bow.  
  
Aeariel slowed her horse in relief. The elves of Mirkwood were here.  
  
~  
  
"King Thranduil," an elven maid said softly.  
  
The lord of Mirkwood looked up from the volume he had been reading at the interruption.  
  
"Your highness, there are strange elves arriving in the courtyard," the maid continued.  
  
The King rose from his chair and followed her out to the courtyard. There he found five riders on horses that had clearly been ridden hard. Four were elves, and one was a mortal man. The foremost rider dismounted painfully, and stepped forward.  
  
"I seek the King of Mirkwood," the rider said, pulling back the hood of her cloak.  
  
Thranduil's surprise was hidden beneath a neutral mask. The rider was a maid, and fairly young as elves determined age. She had obviously been wounded. Blood was dripping from her hand, and she could barely remain upright.  
  
"I am Thranduil," the King responded. "How may I aid you?"  
  
A small smile crossed Aeariel's face, but it appeared more of a grimace.  
  
"I am Aeariel, princess of the Eastern Realm. I ask for sanctuary for my people."  
  
Thranduil turned to an elf standing just to his left.  
  
"Bring healers at once."  
  
~  
  
Dengar stepped outside, and breathed deeply of the night air. He looked about at the trees that were so unlike those from the forest of his home. Everything here was different than the Eastern Realm. The elves of Mirkwood looked upon him strangely, and he found himself uncomfortable.  
  
The sound of laughter came from inside the hall behind him. A feast was being held to celebrate Princess Aeariel's recovery. There had been a brief span of time when it was thought that the princess would die from her injury. Dengar had tried to see her during the four days she lay abed, but his requests were denied. As captain of the guard, Dengar thought, he should have been admitted to her chamber.  
  
Now that she was healed, Dengar had tried approaching her in the feast hall. The scene replayed in his mind as he stood on the balcony. He had crossed to the princess where she stood surrounded by her personal guards, and many elves from Mirkwood. She was smiling brightly at something a male elf had whispered into her ear.  
  
Dengar shook his head in annoyance, and turned away from the view of the forest. He had tried to question the princess about what they were going to do next. Were they going to return to the Eastern realm with reinforcements from the Mirkwood elves? Were they going to move on from Mirkwood and rebuild? Her happy smile had gone away, and her eyes had darkened as she looked at him. She had refused to discuss it, and told him she would be meeting with Thranduil the next day. With that, she had dismissed him and returned to her empty chatter.  
  
The mortal man exhaled a frustrated breath, and walked towards the room where he would try and get some sleep. He must be patient. Tomorrow, he would know what the future held. 


End file.
